Lord of the Black Isle (10 page)

“Aye, although she is known as Sister Dominique by the nuns.”

She stood and said, “Lead the way, Lord Kinloss,” and he was struck again by how beautiful she was, with the curly hair and a face that could easily grace a fine Italian painting. But after noticing what nice things she did to the dress she was wearing, he decided she would do even better as a nude statue born of pale marble at the hands of Michelangelo.

***

When they walked into Caitrina's room, Elisabeth knew immediately that things did not look good, for she could hear the shallow, rapid breathing and the rattling coughing spasms. She hurried to Caitrina's bedside and made the usual observations, hampered greatly by having no up-to-date medical supplies. Even without a thermometer, the burning heat of Caitrina's skin told Elisabeth the fever was quite high, and she observed that Caitrina was also having chills. And then she noticed that her lips and nail beds were blue, which was a sign of a lack of oxygen.

This is not looking good… not at all, she thought…

She put her fingers on Caitrina's pulse. The pulse rate was high: one hundred beats a minute. “How long has she been ill?”

“She has been here aboot a week,” David said.

“And before that? When she was at the priory, how long had she been ill?”

“'Twas said she had been ill for aboot a week, with fever and shivering and a pain in her back.”

“Was she coughing when she arrived?”

“Aye, but 'twas no' as bad as it is now.”

Elisabeth was thinking that the symptoms of bacterial pneumonia usually begin quite suddenly, often after a milder infection like influenza or a cold. Besides Caitrina's sweating, there was the shortness of breath, the nasal flaring and wheezing, and the cyanosis of her lips and nail beds.

Elisabeth couldn't be certain without the proof found with lab results, but the symptoms all pointed toward streptococcus pneumonia. That, coupled with the high rate of Caitrina's breathing, meant things looked bad for both of them; for she knew if she did not save the earl's sister, her own life could be in danger as well.

Pushing such thoughts away, Elisabeth took a respiratory count and found the rate to be twenty-two beats a minute, again in line with streptococcus pneumonia. She sighed regretfully, for Caitrina's white blood cell count would have been especially helpful, and so would the ten or so other tests normally run to evaluate such an illness. The worst part of it was that even if she had the tools to give a positive diagnosis, she had no antibiotics, and her collection of herbs and primitive drugs were not sufficient to deal with an illness of the magnitude of streptococcus pneumonia, especially in its advanced stages, if that was for certain what Caitrina had.

What Elisabeth did know was that the prioress was dying, and she did what she could to ease Caitrina's suffering, in spite of the agony of knowing that an antibiotic like erythromycin or amoxicillin, if given in time, would have saved her.

Later, when Lord Kinloss came by, she stepped into the hallway to speak to him, explaining her suspicions that it was a grave illness and that there was no medicine available to cure it. “I am so sorry to say this, but there is nothing I can do to save her. I can only give her something to ease her pain and help her rest.”

He looked as if he had been struck a fatal blow, and she had never experienced anything that she hated more than being the bearer of the news that brought him more grief. She wondered what he was thinking when he turned away quickly and strode down the hall and down the stairs.

Elisabeth stayed by Caitrina's bed for the next two days, taking her meals in the room and sleeping in the chair by her bed each night, leaving only long enough to bathe and change clothes before returning. She had been using cannabis hemp that was grown in the garden at Soutra around the clock as a painkiller, and while Caitrina slept, Elisabeth would catch an occasional nap in the bedside chair.

On the second day, Elisabeth could hear the change in Caitrina's breathing. She took her pale hand and held it in hers, as she leaned forward and said, “I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know there was so little I could do by the time I arrived. If only I had seen you when you first became ill, things might have been different. My heart is heavy and I grieve for my inability to do more, and I am so sorry for the grief my failure will cause your family.

“I have the knowledge to save you, but I have not the advancement of science and the tools available in my time to work with. And, I don't know why I am saying all of this to you, for I know it makes no sense. I am sorry, so sorry that I failed you. Please forgive me. I just want you to know that it is all in God's hands now, and I know that with your faith, that is a blessed place for you to be.”

To Elisabeth's astonishment, there was the slightest movement of Caitrina's hand and a featherlight squeeze. Elisabeth stood and held the hand of the prioress to her heart and kissed her forehead. “Go with God,” Elisabeth whispered, and lay the hand of the prioress upon her chest.

She heard a noise, and looked toward the door and saw the Earl of Kinloss standing there. Had he heard what she said? Had he seen his sister squeeze her hand? When he turned abruptly away, without so much as a nod in her direction, she decided he had not.

Things were eerily quiet that night, but by the first rays of early morning, she knew by the rattle in her breathing that Caitrina was nearing death and she sent for her brother and family members.

Elisabeth was standing beside Caitrina, pressing a moist cloth to her parched lips, when the family members began to gather. No one spoke as they settled into place in a semicircle around the bed. Elisabeth laid her cloth down and was making a move to leave the room when Lord Kinloss put his hand upon her shoulder, preventing it, as he said, “There is no reason fer ye to leave now.”

Elisabeth nodded and took a step back, then lowered her head, her focus upon the last minutes of the life of the prioress of Elcho Priory. And as death reached out and touched Caitrina's heart, and they heard the low death rattle of her last breath, Elisabeth knew her sightless eyes were now dazzled by the brightness of light and the mighty ways of God.

O! what a deal of scorn looks beautiful.

In the contempt and anger of his lip.

—
Twelfth
Night
, Act III, Scene 1 (1602)

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

English poet and playwright

Sleep, the twin of death, evaded her.

It was the first time Elisabeth had a sleepless night since the days after Ronan was cruelly ripped from her life, and in spite of being exhausted still, she was glad to see the first tender fingers of morning creep between the gaps in the drapery, heralding a brand-new day.

She sat up in bed, elbows resting on her knees, and thought about all that had happened to her of late, and how she had been hopscotching around Scotland. Although a fun, sightseeing tour it was not.

So many emotions swirled around in her head. Regret, of course, was at the forefront of her mind: regret that there were such poor medical advancements in this time period, regret that she was not brought here sooner, regret that she was not able to see Caitrina before she was brought back home to Aisling Castle, regret that she did not have more time so she had a fighting chance to formulate some sort of antibiotic when it might have made a difference, regret that Caitrina was already knocking at death's door by the time she arrived; and a deep, despairing sorrow that such a beautiful, dedicated young woman had to meet such a tragic end.

And she also wondered what the Earl of Kinloss would do to her, now that Caitrina had died.

On the morning of her third day at Aisling Castle, she was awakened by one of the maids who brought her a black dress and told her the earl said she was to put it on. “Ye are to come below stairs once ye are dressed. Will ye be wanting any help wi' yer hair, mistress?”

Elisabeth eyed the extremely plain dress and knew it would look severe, somber, and very black upon her, but what did it matter? She preferred not to stand out. “No, I can manage, thank you.”

She put the dress on and worried about how it fit, but there was no full-length mirror, so she would never know if it hung on her like socks on a rooster, as her grandmother used to say. That left her feeling as lost as a blind person in a dark room as far as her appearance went. What she could tell was that the dress was way too short, for she could see her shoes sticking out like the ruby slippers on the Wicked Witch of the West after the house fell on her.

She eyed the French hood and wished she had a way to put her hair up. She would give anything for a rubber band or even a few hairpins, and even a sliver of a mirror would have been nice. Since she had none of these things, she ran her fingers through her hair as best she could, put the hood on and hoped she placed it right, and hoped that it would suffice.

With a sigh, she went downstairs and found a large number of people gathered in the great hall, with Caitlin's coffin to one side of the great fireplace. A priest stood beside the coffin, and nearby she saw Lord Kinloss's sister, Ailis, standing next to him, then Duncan and the four other knights who had accompanied her from St. Leonard's.

Without realizing she was doing so, she stared at Lord Kinloss, who looked quite splendid in trim black breeches, tall boots, and a black velvet doublet. He was tall and would be as deliciously handsome as she thought he was when he rescued her if he wasn't consumed by grief.

She decided the title of Earl of Kinloss did suit him, for he had a bearing that was both noble and commanding, and he stood apart from everyone else in the room. Had she not met him before, she would have thought him a man with a haughty attitude, as if he considered himself to be better than all the others gathered there, but she remembered the man who rescued her and was glad she had met him then, for she understood that he could be kind and caring. With a quick, indrawn breath, she realized she had been staring at him, and when their gazes met, he returned her stare with one that was impassively cold.

If it had been another person or another time, anger might have surged through her blood, heating it to the boiling point over his arrogant disregard of the fact that she had done all she could. But grief dealt harshly with those who lost a loved one. She caught a glimpse of herself in a small mirror and realized how ill-fitting the black gown was and how nothing about it suited her. Thankfully, she could not see how dreadfully short it was on her, and God only knew how horrid her hair must look. She didn't need self-criticism, so she quickly looked down at the floor and kept her gaze there during the long mass.

When it was finally over, she turned away, more than ready to return to her room, and almost bumped into someone. When she lifted her head, she was shocked to see Lord Kinloss standing before her. She turned, intending to bypass him and continue on her way upstairs, but his hand lashed out and caught her by the arm. “Ye will accompany us to see Caitrina laid to rest. I would have ye see what yer failure to cure her has wrought.”

Elisabeth gasped as his words cut into the quick of her. “It would seem your anger toward me would only be appeased if I joined her in death, and even then, I'm not sure you would be satisfied. I see no purpose to my going to her burial. It should be a private time for you and your family. I will only be a distraction. And no matter what you think, I am not as callous as you think, nor is my heart made of stone. I have my own sorrow over her death, and it pains me greatly to lose someone I had under my care. But I am only human and I cannot perform miracles, and I can assure you that only a miracle would have saved Caitrina. Now, if you will excuse me, I will return to my room and retire early so that I might leave this inhospitable place and be out of your hair at daybreak.”

“Ye will accompany us to the cemetery, and as for leaving on the morrow, ye may put that thought out of yer mind completely. So, ready yersel', mistress, for the trek.”

“You cannot force me to go.”

His face hardened. “Aye, mistress, that I can, and I will do so if needs be,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “Ye
will
join us, for ye will regret it if ye dinna.”

Elisabeth wondered what happened to the gentle knight who rescued her, but she knew the pain of losing a loved one did affect people in different ways. Perhaps, for some reason he blamed himself and was taking it out on her. Before she had another thought, he turned away and she fell in at the back of the group departing the castle and followed them to the cemetery.

The funeral was a terribly sad one for her, and she could not help the tears that rolled down her face. They were not tears of guilt but rather sadness for one so lovely and so young, and for the brother and sister who had seen to the burial of both their parents and so many of their siblings, for Elisabeth was appalled to see the names of so many of them in the cemetery. All were siblings of Ailis and Lord Kinloss, and as she read the names, William, Hugh, Janet, Archibald, Mara, and Grainne, her heart went out to the two of them for the suffering and loss they had endured, and she was shamed to have been so curt and angry at him. She reminded herself that grief was understood only by those who suffered.

She had no idea and no imagining of how one could deal with such loss. Of nine siblings, only two remained. With a sigh, she lifted her head and stared upward into the leafy bower of a large tree a few feet away, with hopes that it would serve to take her mind off the sadness that engulfed this place of mourning.

But that did not help, so she stood there with her head downcast and took a deep breath as she wiped the path of tears from her face. Later, when the tears subsided, she lifted her head and found David still staring at her with a cold look of disdain. He looked as tall and dark as the outline of the stone-hewn castle behind him, and just as enduring and cold.

Bah!
What did she care what he looked like? He was nothing to her except a pain in the posterior. She quickly turned her head and thought of her own family, centuries away, who were as dead to her as his were to him. The reminder that she would never see them again sent a sharp pain to her heart. All she had was her sister, Isobella, and her heart seemed to thud painfully slowly as she felt her twin's absence acutely.

When the priest began to speak, she tried to follow the words, but her mind kept drifting off. It was only when she heard the softly muted murmur of talking that she realized the service was over. Stone faced, and unnaturally pale, she watched each of the family members toss a handful of dirt upon the wooden coffin as they turned away to begin the journey back to Aisling Castle. She waited a moment before she adjusted the black headdress and veil, and when the last family member walked through the cemetery gate, she gathered up her skirt to tread as heavily upon the muddy sod as she did on her feelings.

They were almost to the castle when she felt someone take her arm, and she turned quickly, expecting to see Lord Kinloss ready to haul her off to the dungeon. Instead, she saw the pale face of Ailis, who managed a wan smile to go with the soft look in her lovely blue eyes.

“I ken my brother's wirds are harsh and fall unkindly upon ye, but dinna judge him too harshly. We have suffered so many losses that grief and funerals have become a way of life for us. Caitrina's death was especially difficult for him because they were twins.”

Elisabeth was shocked to hear about them being twins and wondered why he did not mention it. “I'm sorry you have suffered so much. I cannot imagine such a loss,” she said, feeling a deep sorrow that any family should suffer so.

Elisabeth caught sight of David ahead of them, walking with Duncan and four other men about the same age. Even his walk was authoritative. “It seems your brother has found a group of friends his age to give him some feeling of brotherhood.”

“Nae, not friends,” Ailis said. “'Tis family, for they are our cousins, Duncan, Branan, Cailean, Taran, and Aleyn. Our fathers were brothers. They havena any family save us.”

“And you are the only girl.” Elisabeth wanted to kick herself because she was ashamed she reminded Ailis that she was, now that Caitrina was gone, the only girl.

Ailis did not smile, but her eyes did shine with a gleam of humor. “Aye, 'tis me against the six o' them, so it will be nice to have ye here, just to help balance things oot a wee bit.”

“Ahhh, a buffer,” Elisabeth said, thinking a sense of humor was always nice to serve as a cushion against the shock of reality.

“Do ye have brothers?” Ailis asked.

Elisabeth nodded. “Yes, I have two younger brothers.” She decided not to tell her their names were John and James, or that she had a younger sister, Anna, and they all lived six centuries in the future, or that her twin was married to the Chief of Clan Mackinnon. As her father always said, “Never expose your cards before you have to.”

Ailis lifted the skirts of her gown to step over a puddle. Elisabeth, in her too-short gown, did not have to and Ailis must have taken note, for she said, “I shall see to having some new clothing made fer ye that is better suited to yer height. The gown ye wear… it belonged to Caitrina afore she became a nun. She was no' so tall as ye.”

They walked on for some time, lost in conversation, until Elisabeth realized they had drawn quite close to Lord Kinloss and his cousins. The two of them slowed their pace, but not before they heard Duncan say, “So, tell me, why didn't ye send the lass back, instead of making her attend the funeral?”

“Duncan, are ye daft?” one of them said. “Ye ha' only to take one glance at her to see she is more than just a comely lass. She looks like she stepped from a painting. Ye could look far and wide and no' find a more beautiful woman.”

“Beauty is no' a reason to be elevated or worshipped,” David said, “and I find her quite plain.” But his cousins glanced at each other, as if doubting his words, just before he added, “Beauty comes from within, and she is too bold, too opinionated, and too outspoken.”

“Ye better not let her hear ye say that, or ye might end up the proud owner of a black eye!” Duncan said.

David was quick to reply: “And ye might have one yersel' if ye care to mention that again.”

Elisabeth and Ailis fell back even further, and they were the last to arrive back at Aisling Castle. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she could slip away and seek the comfort of her room, for she was still unbelievably tired from the trip and the time she had spent in the room with Caitrina.

It wasn't until she was inside the castle keep that she realized she had muddy shoes and dirty stockings, and she could feel the heat of embarrassment upon her face. She hoped to slip quietly inside and disappear into her room, but the men were all gathered around the entry to the great hall when Ailis and Elisabeth entered.

Ailis stopped and said, “Elisabeth, I want you to meet my cousins. Duncan Murray you have met. Standing next to him are Aleyn, Taran, Branan, and Cailean.”

Elisabeth greeted them with a remark that they were a fine-looking lot and that they were all from the well-favored side of the family, and felt she at least got in a bit of a gouge for the remark of Lord Kinloss about her being quite plain.

The five cousins glanced at David, who stood slightly behind her but far enough away that she could not see his face. The cousins beamed with delight, for it was obvious they wanted to laugh but not so soon after the burial of their cousin.

Elisabeth would have given anything to see David's face, but she did not want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that she even cared. She decided it was time to retire and said, “If you will excuse me, I think I shall—”

David cut her off. “If ye harbor any thoughts aboot retiring early, mistress, I would not advise it.” He turned and motioned to his cousins to follow, and she was relieved to see them go.

“Is he always like this?” Elisabeth asked.

Ailis watched her brother leave before she said, “Although it pains me to say so, he can be, but that isn't the real David. He has not had an easy time of it and never really wanted to inherit the title. Our father was horribly harsh and critical of him, and in spite of that, David never raised his voice to him. I thank God every night that our cousins are here, for I dinna ken how he would be able to live here with just the two of us. It would be unbearably sad. Our cousins are quite jolly most of the time and always teasing and laughing. It is good for David to have his spirits lightened. I know ye wouldna believe it, but he was once as happy and teasing as they.”